Refrain
by Mellaithwen
Summary: AU set during Salvation. Angry at his father, Dean lets his emotions go.


**Refrain**

**By Mellaithwen**

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**Rating: T**

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**Genre: Angst**

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**Disclaimer: Seriously, just no, and 3 Doors Down lyrics were an afterthought.**

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**Summary: AU set during Salvation. Angry at his father, Dean lets his emotions go. **

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_**So hold me when I'm here right me when I'm wrong, hold me when I'm scared, and love me when I'm gone**_

_**Everything I am, and everything in me wants to be the one you wanted me to be**_

"A vision," John repeated, dead-pan as Sam pinched the bridge of his noise echoes of the headache still lingering from earlier.

"Yes," Sam said calmly, "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling

"Right, and you think it's going to happen to this woman you met, because..."

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them." He said, trying to explain something he didn't understand himself to the ever-impatient John Winchester.

"They started out as nightmares," Dean supplied, stepping toward the sink with his empty mug, "then he started having them when he was awake."

"Yeah, it's like, I don't know, the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get

"All right, when were you going to tell me about this?"

Dean looked up suddenly, and saw to his fury, that John's accusation was clearly directed at him. As though he were to blame, as if, somehow this was a result of Dean's lacking in protecting his brother.

"Something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me." Dean left the discarded mug on the sideboard, walking towards his father who still sat hunched at the end of the bed.

"Call you?" He asked, incredulous. "Are you kidding me? Dad I called you from Lawrence, alright? Sam called you when I was dying," He gestured to his brother sitting down still who seemed more tense now that Dean was talking back. "Not to say I was hurt, not to say something had gone wrong but to tell you I was _dying_."

"Dean," John began seeing his son become more distressed. He offered a hand, though to what he wasn't sure and Dean instantly flinched back, jerking away from the touch.

"No. No. I was dying and you didn't have the decency to call."

"Dean, this demon-."

"No, not the demon, not hunting, _ME_, your son!"

And with that he stormed out of the room, unable to stay there with Sam's cautious breathing behind him, and his father's attempt to excuse his behaviour. He didn't even both with his jacket as he slammed the door hard behind him and walked straight past the car choosing instead to walk the lonely road ahead.

He heard the open and closing of the door but didn't dare look back. The lack of response from his father was damning. Maybe he'd expected a flinch, a flicker of something to make him doubt his fears that the man really didn't give a shit either way. He berated himself for picking now of all times to get so pissed, but he couldn't turn back on his anger. He knew himself too well, and there were some things even he couldn't keep bottled up for long.

And why did he bottle up his feelings? Because he never knew how not to. Sam took to sensitivity like a fish out of water, but Dean? Dean didn't want people to know how he felt, because if your enemies know your weaknesses then they use them against you, and the same goes for family. Sam had shown a real gift in remembering the smallest of details at the worst of times to disclose them, and John's memory was so precise that he could hold a grudge like no one else.

Dean remembers a lot, more than he should, but he never let anyone else see that. It amused him when Sam looked surprised at his ability to recall the stupidest of details, and equally surprised when Dean pretended _not_ to remember something, though Sam never knew that.

"Dean!" His father called to him loudly, "Dean!"

He kept on walking, picking up the pace slightly when he heard the fast footfalls of his father running after him.

"Dean, just stop!" He called; still not close enough to his son, but gaining. Dean didn't listen, but he looked up at the darkening sky ahead and wondered vaguely if it would rain before or after they buried their issues under 6 feet of bravado.

"Dean! Listen to me!" And suddenly there was a firm grasp on his arm, spinning him around so he was facing his father. Had the strong hold let go, Dean's footing might have been lost, but to be honest, he didn't really care, be it face down in the mud, or face first into this new batch of issues, both promised unpleasantness to say the least.

"Listen to you?" Dean hissed, his tone low, quiet almost. "_Listen_? What could you possibly have to say, Dad?" But Dean didn't let the man answer, he ran a hand through his hair, hearing a rumble of thunder from above, and somewhat more aware of the darkness the black clouds now brought. "I waited, and you know what? I don't know why I bothered. I kept thinking that it was understandable, you know? You were busy, more important things to do, and hell, there was no way you could have known, right?"

"Dean,"

"Then, then a week or so later, Sammy says he called you. Left a message, and that you never got back to him. You never called back, nothing."

"It was dangerous, Dean."

"Bullshit. If you can call us with co ordinates, and turn up pissed when Vampires take out your mentor then there's no reason you couldn't have asked if I was okay!"

Maybe it was the fact that his usually good-tempered son was now screaming, maybe it was the fact that he had gone too far in bringing up Elkins, or maybe it was the shitty weather, but John had lost his patience. He struck out, shoving Dean for his words, and as he nearly had before, Dean fell backwards into the damp ground, that would soon get sodden as small droplets of rain started to fall. For a moment all was still. Then rain worsened quickly. John stood, his hands still outstretched, and Dean sat on the ground, taking deep breaths against retaliation, before getting to his feet.

The thunder boomed, and Dean didn't even look at his father before stalking off once more. Again, John found himself grabbing the boy's arm and stopping him, spinning him, but Dean looked him straight in the face, daring him.

"What?" He challenged. John gritted his teeth, reminding himself that he was in the wrong, not Dean.

"You boys mean more than anything to me, and you have no idea what that message did to me."

"Did to you? How do you think I felt, Dad? One minute I'm hunting the next, I'm coming to in a hospital and some Doctor's telling me I'm gonna be dead by next month? Do you know how much it hurts to get electrocuted, Dad? Do you know what it feels like to be that weak every single moment for almost a week? Do you?"

"No, Dean, I don't, but you're okay now-"

"And that makes it better then? Because I'm not dead I can forgive the fact that you don't care?"

"Don't ever think that I don't care! You didn't hear Sam on the phone Dean, hearing that nearly killed me."

The anger was back but now fuelled with a determination to prove himself more than before. Another clasp of thunder boomed, the rain hardening into hail, bouncing off of the ground as both men glared at each other. Dean sighed, looking down. Sam had left the room, and was now walking towards them.

"It did nearly kill _me_."

"I checked, I phoned, I knew you'd been healed-"

"All you had to do was call, Dad, hell; you could have sent a text."

"What good would it have done?" Sammy was right next to them now, looking cautiously between them, feeling the roles reversed between he and his brother.

"Maybe none, but you know what?" Dean said, now mindful of Sam's presence. "It would have been nice to know you tried."

"You're right," John said shamefully, and Dean fought the urge to mutter, _I know_. Sam was surprised at the words too, but glad he had arrived in time to hear them. That would be three times now in so little time that the elder had admitted being wrong. "I'm sorry."

Dean nodded slightly, but in acknowledgement of the layers his family wore in contrast to his own, he shivered, and his father's eyes softened more so. "Come on, you'll freeze out here," He went to throw an arm around his shoulders, but thought better of it. He wasn't used to Dean hashing out arguments, or showing his feelings, and for him to do both, and so strongly...he would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. He settled for a smile to try and lighten the mood instead.

"Though, I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours." He said, as Sam followed the two of them.

"Nah, you're just pissed at being wrong." Dean said, smiling in return, though unable to hide the pain in his eyes, as he opened up the door and grabbed a fresh shirt. He changed as Sam began to change the subject back to the pressing matter of the demon, and as John threatened that nobody would go through the same hell their family had been through, the phone rang.

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